


Be Prepared

by verfound



Series: The Dingo Files: Tales of an Australian Dumbass [4]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Condoms, Dingo just wants to win the water war, Endgame Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, F/M, First Time, Let Luka Come 2020, Luka Couffaine is a Fucking Idiot, Luka just wants to show his girl a good time, Luka's just trying to practice safe sex, The Condom Fic, Wreck Luka Week, giggly sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:55:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25696156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verfound/pseuds/verfound
Summary: Anarka had been giving Luka two boxes of condoms for his birthday every year since he turned fifteen: one for his drawer and one for his school bag.  She had wanted to make sure he’d always be prepared, even if he hadn’t been seeing anyone at the time.  You know.  Just in case.  So it figures the first time he actually needed to use them they were…gone.
Relationships: Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Series: The Dingo Files: Tales of an Australian Dumbass [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1649851
Comments: 16
Kudos: 195
Collections: Crikey!  A Wild Dingo has Appeared!, Dammit Quick





	Be Prepared

**Author's Note:**

> There were multiple things said by a few people (you know who you are) that prompted this. It kinda got out of control. xD (If the summary/rating didn’t give it away, sexy times of…er… _varying success_ ahead. Apparently I like ALL of Luka blue, not just his hair. 😂)
> 
> …also y’all don’t get used to this. xD If you’ve followed me a while you know I’m not usually this fast with content. xD (In my defense, this was written before I started really working on Winters, and it was sitting unedited until the Gang asked yesterday “HEY DIDN’T YOU FINISH THE CONDOM FIC?!” And I was gonna wait until next week, space things out a little, but lbr if I don’t edit/post now I’m gonna forget about it. xP

When Luka had woken up that morning, he hadn’t planned on needing the box of condoms that had been haphazardly stuffed into his backpack since his nineteenth birthday. He was aware of them – painfully so, as he and his girlfriend of two years had been getting more physical and had discussed potentially needing them somewhere in the near future, even if they hadn’t needed them _yet_ – but he hadn’t actively woken up thinking, “Gee, I’m gonna need some condoms today!” He supposed that was how these things worked, though, and why the Captain had always made sure he had a box handy since the year he turned fifteen. Luka wasn’t a planner – not like Marinette was, at least. He was more of a wing it, fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants type, not a contingency-plan-for-the-contingency-plan type. He was pretty sure she hadn’t really planned on this either, though, which…really just further proved the point the Captain had been trying to make since the first time she’d chucked a box of condoms and a birthday card at him.

_“…Ma. I’m not even interested in anyone,” fifteen-year-old Luka said, blinking at the box of condoms Anarka had slid across the table at him that morning at breakfast. Happy birthday, indeed. She patted his hand before standing, going back to the counter to pour some coffee._

_“Aye, but ‘tis better t’be prepared, m’b’y,” she said. She turned back towards him, leveling a glare over her mug. “Yer fifteen and still a loingear aboard_ **my ship** _. Ye won’t be raising any bairns here fer a long while yet.”_

And that had seemed to be the end of that conversation, both agreeing that – even though Luka had no foreseeable plans to use them – it was better to be safe than sorry, and so he had dropped them in the drawer beneath his bed without another word. And they had stayed there, unused and expiring, until she’d given him another box on his sixteenth birthday.

“Have t’keep ‘em fresh,” she’d said before he could protest. “Like fish. I’ve already thrown out yer old box. Good on ye fer not using ‘em, b’y.”

…it didn’t matter that, according to the box, they shouldn’t expire for at least three years, but he supposed her throwing them out kept him from having an embarrassing over-abundance of condoms just lying around. He had just considered himself lucky his best friend hadn’t found them to heckle him with yet.

By his seventeenth birthday, he’d already met Marinette, and while they hadn’t known each other that long and she was still stupid in love ( _infatuation_ – it had never actually been _love_ ) with another guy, the doe eyes he hadn’t been able to stop sending her had prompted the Captain to give him _two_ boxes that year.

“One fer here and one fer yer bag,” she’d said dismissively, though there had been a certain twinkle in her eyes. “Just in case.”

…they were dating by the time he was eighteen, so that year the condoms had been fucking _giftwrapped_. With a sparkly pink bow.

And while there was still a certain degree of _weirdness_ about your mother giving you condoms for your birthday, he knew the Captain was just looking out for him. She wanted him to be ready and to be safe, should the need ever arise. It was the one area of their lives that she had had the foresight to plan ahead in, probably knowing her son well enough to know that when it finally happened it would be in the moment, without any planning, and ultimately he would be grateful for his traditional Mortifying Birthday Gift. If things had worked out differently, he probably would have been.

Here’s how things had worked out, in the end.

They had been heading back to the Liberty after her last class let out, intent on spending a quiet evening together away from the bakery. Her parents were supposed to be at a large bridal convention out of town that weekend, but they wouldn’t be leaving until early Saturday morning. Marinette knew they’d be running themselves crazy with last-minute preparations, and – after insuring they hadn’t needed her help with anything – she had wanted to stay out of their hair.

They were closer to the bakery than the boat when she’d gotten a text from Sabine telling her they’d be leaving earlier than expected, and she was so sorry, but Tom had worried about rushing the next morning and just thought it better they leave Friday night instead. There was food in the fridge, and why not invite Luka over to keep her company? Watch a movie and relax? She’d been so busy lately, after all. She deserved the break.

…it hadn’t _exactly_ been an invitation, and both knew Sabine would _never_ expect them to take advantage of the empty house and their trust like that, but…well. Things happen. _Just like the Captain had known they eventually would._

That was what Luka was telling himself when the gentle kissing had turned into a more heated makeout, at least. That’s what he was reminding himself when Marinette had scrambled onto his lap, tangling her fingers in his hair as she tipped his head back and plundered his mouth like _she_ was the Boat Kid instead of him (she was, she had been, she always would be, as far as he was concerned). The mental reminder wasn’t as strong when she’d pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere behind them without a second thought.

Kissing had led to touching, which had led to rubbing, which had led to Luka wishing he had worn his kilt instead of the suddenly entirely-too-tight jeans he usually favored. He’d been lost in a hazy cloud of lust and Marinette, his hands latching onto her hips and pulling her against him as he bucked upwards, and her nibbling on his shoulder paused at the motion. Everything had paused, really, and for a brief moment he’d been afraid he’d moved too fast, pushed her too far too soon…

“…do that again,” she’d panted, her voice barely a whisper against his skin. He’d swallowed, blinking owlishly at the ceiling as his fingers flexed on her hips. He was terrified to move, afraid he’d heard her wrong, afraid…but then she was grinding herself onto him, reaching up to nip at his ear instead of his shoulder, and a strangled sort of sound escaped him. “ _Luka._ I said _do it again_.”

“…hell yeah,” he sighed, and that was how _kissing_ had gone to _touching_ to _rubbing_ to him rolling her over on the couch and flat-out _dry-humping_ her. Which…sounded ridiculous, and he was pretty sure they _looked_ ridiculous, but she was tugging her shirt over her head and arching into him and quite honestly he couldn’t give two fucks how ridiculous it sounded or looked.

Because Marinette was half-naked beneath him, and he was painfully hard, and there was a box of condoms in his bag, and if she let him there was really only one fuck he was interested in at the moment.

He rocked against her slowly, hissing when he hit just right and ground into her hard enough to draw a low, breathy moan from her lips. He nipped at the spot along her bra he’d been kissing, stilling his hips while he was still pressed firmly against her.

“Too much?” he asked, licking over the skin he’d just bit. He loved her breasts. He loved all of her, and the more physical they were getting the more he was discovering how much he loved her body as much as he loved her, but he was particularly fond of her breasts. As far as he was concerned, they were perfect. His hand ran up along her side, cupping the breast he wasn’t kissing to massage it. She moaned, arching her back to press herself to him. He chuckled, nipping at her skin again. They were pretty sensitive, too, which only made playing with them even better. “Marinette. Are you ok with this?”

“If I wasn’t ok with it your ass would already be on the floor,” she huffed, reaching down to cup said ass and tug him closer – just to emphasize her point. “Luka. I love you. I’ve been wanting this for a while now. We’ve talked about this.”

…they had. He knew that. They’d fooled around plenty of times before, but they had yet to take that _final_ step. And while he loved how it felt when Marinette had her fist or even her mouth wrapped tight around his dick, he couldn’t deny he’d been wanting this for a while now, too. He wanted to know what it felt like to be inside her, to feel her wrap around him completely as she fell apart in his arms…

“And we’re the only ones here, and we will be all weekend, and you’ve already told me you’re prepared for whenever I’m ready…so I’m ready, Luka,” she said, nipping at his ear again. She pushed him back, prompting him to sit on his heels as she sat up. Her eyes stayed locked on his own, half-lidded and dark as she reached back to unclasp her bra. His mouth went dry as the straps slid down her shoulders, the lacy cups falling down into her lap and leaving her nearly bare for him. She reached up and tapped his chin with her finger, closing the mouth he hadn’t realized had dropped open. She giggled at the awestruck expression on his face. “Luka. Come on. They’re just boobs. You’ve seen my boobs before.”

“They're not just boobs, Marinette,” he said reverently, bringing his hands back up to cup them. Her eyelids fluttered as his fingers worked against her, massaging her, and her head tipped back with a sigh. He leaned in and placed a kiss against one, his nose nudging the skin between them as he nuzzled her. He could stay there all day, if she’d let him, but there were other parts of her that still needed his attention. He pulled back to smile up at her, one hand sliding down her side to rest on her hip. He flicked her nipple with the thumb of the hand still holding her breast, making her gasp. “They're _your_ boobs, and that makes them infinitely more superior to any other boobs on the planet.”

She snorted, pressing her face into his shoulder as he smiled, the hand on her hip dipping beneath her waistband to rub along her ass.

“You are such a _dork_ ,” she laughed, but his hand slid lower, molding to her ass and pulling her more firmly into the seat of his lap, cutting her laugh off with a moan as he ground into her.

“I’m _your_ dork,” he said, biting at her shoulder. “All yours, Marinette.”

“All mine,” she sighed, curling her fingers into his hair and pulling his face back into her chest as she raised herself onto her knees, relieving some of the delicious pressure she’d been putting on his dick. His pants were still too damn tight, though. One hand lowered to his fly, unhooking the button and lowering the zip. It helped, but not much. His other hand skimmed along her hip, beneath her pants, wiggling when he couldn’t move any lower. She giggled again, the sound sharper this time as his fingers stretched. “Having trouble there, star?”

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” he whined. “I want to touch you, darning.”

“You are touching me,” she teased, gasping when he caught a nipple between his teeth.

“I want to touch you _here_ ,” he huffed, wiggling his fingers again. And though she hummed in agreement, for a moment she had him thinking she wanted the opposite as she pulled away, moving to stand before him. Any question died on his lips when he looked up and saw the grin on her face. It told him that was exactly what she wanted, too, and then she was taking his hands and guiding them to her jeans. She smirked at him, her fingers wiggling under his bracelets to scratch at his wrists.

“Then get them off and touch me,” she ordered. His stomach clenched pleasantly, his heart racing at the authority in her tone.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, sliding the button out without further instruction. He paused when she rapped on his knuckles, looking up at her with a raised brow.

“I thought I was dating a Boat Kid?” she teased, shoving a hand into his hair. His eyes grew wide as she tugged his head back to look up at her. “What happened to my pirate?”

...it shouldn’t have turned him on like it did, but his dick _throbbed_ at the expectant look she was giving him.

“...aye, Cap…” he started, but the words died in his throat. He scrunched his face and shook his head. “No. Nope. Sorry, darning, can’t do it. I can’t call you _captain_.”

Her own nose scrunched as soon as she heard it, and she nodded in agreement.

“Ok, fair,” she said. “Yeah, please don’t.”

He smirked up at her, pinching her hip and making her jump.

“Aye, aye, _darning_ ,” he teased, and she started laughing again as he returned his attention to her pants. With the zip finally undone, he yanked her jeans down, leaving her underwear for later, and tugged her towards him, pressing his nose into her smooth skin and inhaling. There was a faint floral scent from her bodywash, intermixed with the sweat and a scent that was distinctly _her._ He’d never get enough of it. Her hands came back up to his hair, tangling as she hummed.

“I love you,” she whispered as he sat there holding her, his arms wrapped firmly around her hips and his cheek pressed flat against her stomach. Her nails lightly scratched along his scalp, and he held her tighter. Suddenly, it was almost too much: this amazing girl in his arms, the fact that she loved him, that she wanted him, that she wanted to do _this_ with _him_ …

“I love you,” he answered, his voice so soft yet still too loud for the quiet of the room. He turned his head, his lips finding her skin again to pepper tiny, reverent kisses along her stomach. His grip on her loosened, his hands running down her hips and over her rear, along the backs of her thighs before moving back up, under her underwear, to come to a rest on her ass. His fingers danced out her song, the one that had been stuck in his head for years now – the one he hoped would be stuck there for years to come. “My-My-Marinette.”

She giggled the old nickname – the one she really didn’t mind as much as she used to play at, especially when he had stopped stuttering _Ma_ and started saying _My_ – and it was enough to break the spell. He looked up at her, a devilish grin curling his lips, and she shrieked as he spun her and tugged her back towards him, settling her down on his lap with her back pressed against his chest. Her head fell back against his shoulder. He returned to her neck, kissing and nipping as a hand ran down her thigh, lifting to hook her knee over his leg.

“Yes,” she breathed as that hand moved back up her thigh, sliding over and in the closer he came to her core. She whimpered and arched her hips towards his searching hand, grinding her ass down into him, and he hissed as his dick twitched. Her hand had found its way back into his hair, the other scratching along the arm he’d wrapped around her waist. “God, yes. Touch me, Luka.”

She didn’t have to tell him twice.

The both groaned when his fingers finally slipped inside of her. She was already so _wet_ …he stroked along her folds, little teasing touches that had her whimpering as she squirmed in his lap. She pushed back against him, attempting to pull him deeper, and he chuckled as he lightly bit her shoulder – but the chuckle cut off in a strangled sound as she ground into him again.

“D-darning,” he gasped, his hold on her waist tightening in his attempt to still her. “I’m not gonna last if you keep that up.”

“I’m so close, star,” she whined. He nudged the space beneath her ear with his nose, and she turned her head to capture his lips in a kiss. He added another finger, pushing in deeper and scissoring them to stretch her, and another keening whine escaped her. She pulled her mouth from his with a gasp, pressing her face into his neck as she squirmed. “Sh-shit…”

“You’re so sensitive today,” he teased, and she glared weakly at him before pressing her ass back against his dick. He bit his lip to hold back the groan, and she smirked. “D-dirty…”

She went to say something else, but then he flicked his thumb against her clit as he pushed his fingers in deeper, and she yelped as her hands shot down to grip his thighs. He smirked, kissing her shoulder as her nails scratched along the denim of his jeans. He leaned back on the couch, rocking his hips into her as he continued to pump his fingers. Her grip on his thighs tightened, her breath coming in quick gasps. He could feel her walls clenching, trying to pull his hand deeper, and knew it wouldn’t be long. His thumb returned to her clit, rubbing out slow, hard circles that had her breath hitching.

“It’s ok, darning,” he breathed, nuzzling his face against neck. He peppered her skin with feathery kisses and teasing bites, humming as she moaned. “It’s ok. Let go. Come for me.”

“B-but…” she gasped, but he shook his head.

“You know it’ll make it easier,” he said, nipping her again. “Please, darning. I want you to enjoy this. I want to see you come.”

A strangled sound that might have been an affirmative slipped out, but then she was rocking into his hand and he was reaching, stroking deep insider her, and he hit somewhere as his thumb pressed into her clit that had her yelping, and then her mouth was opened in a silent scream as she pressed her head into his shoulder, her back arching as she ground into his hand, his lap, her body spasming as her walls fluttered around his fingers.

She was beautiful, and he couldn’t wait to make her do that again.

She slumped against him, her chest heaving as she gasped for air. He ducked his face against her shoulder, pressing his smile into her skin.

“You are amazing,” he whispered reverently. A breathy laugh, a little too low to actually be called a giggle, bubbled out of her, her hands squeezing before they started slowly rubbing up and down his thighs.

“Biased,” she said, her voice a little winded.

“Definitely,” he sighed, kissing her shoulder blade. “Doesn’t make it any less true.”

“I wanted to come with you inside me,” she said after a moment. She almost sounded like she was pouting. His smile quirked into a grin, and he flexed the fingers that were still inside her. A sharp gasp caught in her throat, her hips bucking.

“I was,” he teased, slipping his fingers out of her. He caught her eye as he raised his hand, letting her see how wet it was. Her eyes widened as he brought his fingers to his mouth and licked. “Delicious.”

“Th-that’s not what I meant and you know it,” she huffed, snatching his hand away from his mouth. He smiled, half-expecting her to say _gross_ like she’d done the first time he’d tasted her.

“I wasn’t planning on you coming just once,” he whispered by her ear. She pushed away from him, and he blinked as she stood and turned. “Marinette?”

“Pants, _now_ ,” she huffed. He laughed as she knelt by the couch, but the laugh caught in his throat as she pressed her palm against the bulge his unzipped jeans were doing nothing to hide. His breath escaped in a hiss as she rocked her hand against him, his head falling back on the couch. “ _This_ is what I want inside me, star. As talented as your fingers are, I was looking forward to finally having your cock today.”

He wasn’t sure how to describe the sound he made at hearing her say that, but when she started pulling his jeans – boxers and all – down his hips, he realized it didn’t much matter what noises he was making. His dick – his _cock_ , holy shit hearing her say that… – sprang free, and she reached out to give it a firm stroke as she finagled his jeans and underwear off his feet with her other hand. It was a bit awkward, and she got a little distracted when they got stuck, and she maybe squeezed him a little too hard when she leaned over to try and figure out _where_ they were stuck. He was chuckling again as he loosely took her wrist in his hand, pulling her away from his dick and nudging her back. She frowned, but it quickly disappeared when he bent to yank his jeans off, tossing them to wherever her shirt had ended up earlier. He pressed a lingering kiss against her lips, but then she was laughing as she pushed him back onto the couch. He grinned as she pretended to glare at him.

“Luka,” she laughed, crawling up onto the couch beside him, “It’s my turn now.”

“You had your turn,” he huffed, but it was hard to sound annoyed when she grasped him again. His eyes darkened as she lowered her head, glancing up at him to hold his gaze as she kissed his length.

“This is my turn, too,” she quipped, squeezing just enough to make him hiss again. She went to lower her mouth on him, but he gently grabbed her head and pushed her back. He almost reconsidered when she pouted up at him, but he knew he’d never make it if she blew him, too.

“Mari, darning, I told you I’m not gonna last if you do that,” he said. He pulled her back into a sitting position, tugging her closer so he could kiss her. He ended the kiss with a groan when her hand wrapped around him again, pressing his forehead into hers. “C-condoms. Now.”

“Where are they?” she asked, flicking her thumb against his tip, and he choked. “Luka.”

“Sorry, right,” he gasped, shaking his head to clear it. “Holy fuck, Marinette. You are going to kill me. You realize that, right?”

She laughed again, ducking her head against his shoulder and nipping at the stretch of skin below it.

“That’s kind of the plan, star,” she teased. He groaned and pried his hand away from where it had tangled in her hair, slapping it over his eyes as he dropped his head back. He gestured blindly to the edge of the couch, where he had unceremoniously dropped his backpack when they’d first come home.

“Interior pocket,” he said. He almost winced when he heard his voice. He had never sounded so strained before. He was so hard, and he knew there was no way either of them were going to enjoy this at this rate. He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm his frazzled nerves. He heard her moving, felt her leave his side, but he kept his hand clamped over his eyes to avoid looking at her. If he did, he knew he’d see that adorable ass sticking up as she leaned over the couch.

He bit his lip, stifling a groan. It really wasn’t fair. Marinette didn’t even have to try to be sexy. She could make him fall apart with barely a look, and she had been giving him a lot of looks that afternoon. He bit down a bit harder and lifted a finger, glancing over at her. Sure enough, her ass was raised above her heels as she rifled through his bag. He pushed out another breath and clamped his hand back over his eyes, focusing on his breathing again. She was going to fucking wreck him, and he was going to enjoy every moment of it.

“You said interior pocket, right?” she asked, and he hummed in affirmation. He didn’t quite trust his voice yet. “Luka, there’s nothing in here.”

“W-what?” he choked, his head snapping up and hand falling away to gawk at her. What did she mean, there was nothing in there? That was impossible. They had been in that same pocket since his birthday, and before that the box from the previous year had been there. They hadn’t used any of them. Where the fuck had they gone?

She had sat up while his brain had raced to catch up, his bag now sitting in her lap as she continued to root through it. Her kiss-bruised lips were puckered out in a pout that made him want to bite them again, but they had bigger problems at the moment than how fuckable she looked. Like how fuckable she looked and wouldn’t be if his condoms were actually gone.

“They’re not in here,” she said. He pushed himself up, glaring at his backpack like it was personally attacking him. His very swollen, very painful dick was fairly certain it was. “Luka. You said you had condoms. You told me we were prepared.”

“We _are_ prepared!” he squawked, not even caring anymore how his voice sounded or that it had maybe jumped a few octaves at his shout. He snatched the bag from her and flipped it over, upending its contents onto the coffee table. She watched in a strange mix of amusement and growing horror, he was sure, as he started rifling through the mess. “Ma has been giving me two boxes every year on my birthday since I turned fifteen with explicit directions to keep one in my schoolbag, even when I wasn’t seeing anyone, so I would always be prepared. My birthday after we started dating, she fucking _gift-wrapped them_. And even though they shouldn’t expire for a few years, she always gets me two new boxes to _keep them fresh_. I have condoms, Marinette. I _always_ have condoms. I have a shit ton of stupid, fucking, previously _useless_ condoms and there is _no way_ I…”

…did not have any condoms.

What the fuck?!

“Ok,” she said, gesturing to the mess on the table as she squirmed. His eyes darted to where her bare thighs were rubbing together, and he bit his lip to keep from groaning. He was supposed to be between them already. “Then where are they?”

He had no fucking clue.

They’d been there this morning. They’d been there at lunch. They’d…

“Oh my fucking God…” he groaned, hanging his head as he realized what had happened to his condoms. His hand fisted in the fabric of his bag, and she jumped when he suddenly – violently – chucked it in the direction of their clothes with a frustrated grunt. “Darning, I am going to jail. I am going to fucking murder him.”

Marinette didn’t even need to ask who. There was only one _Him_ Luka would consider murdering.

“What the shit did Dingo do now, Couffaine?” she asked. Her hands had balled into fists on her still distractingly bare thighs, but he couldn’t allow himself to get distracted. He forced his eyes from her and grabbed at the pile of his crap, cursing as he searched for his phone. Once he found it, it was a matter of seconds before he’d unlocked it, pulled up the contact labeled _Platypus_ , and smashed his thumb against the call button. “Luka?”

His idiotic, moronic, complete and total _dumbass_ of a best friend answered after two rings.

“Yeah, not a good time, mate!” Dingo shouted from the other end, and Luka’s eyes narrowed into a more murderous glare as he heard a splash.

“You’re damn right it’s not a good time, _mate_ ,” Luka hissed. Dingo shouted something at someone on his end, then he was back.

“What’s that now?” he asked, and Luka _growled_. Marinette’s eyebrows soared, a look crossing her face that made him think she was about to pounce him, condoms or no.

“Ding. When you went in my bag earlier. What the fuck did you take?” he bit. There was another splash on Dingo’s end, and Dingo shouted something very inappropriate about somebody’s mother before he answered.

“Those condoms you never use,” he said, as if he wasn’t ruining what had been a perfectly _wonderful_ afternoon. Like he was relaying the weather or saying he was going to have a croissant for breakfast instead of a yogurt. Luka’s grip tightened on the phone, his lips pressing together in a thin line. Marinette had crossed her arms over her bare breasts and was still glaring at him, but the pose was pushing her breasts up and out and _God,_ if not for his fucking idiot of a best friend he could be sucking on those breasts right now… “I told you. We ran out of balloons for the water war. Plus, you should have seen Tony’s face when a fucking _condom_ slapped him right in the kisser. I nearly pissed myself laughing – it was –”

“You took the entire box,” Luka said, a deadly calm stealing into his voice. There was a beat, as if Dingo didn’t understand what he was saying. As if he had heard the warning tone and recognized the danger, but hadn’t recognized _why_. “Ding. You took the _entire fucking box_. For a water balloon fight.”

Marinette’s jaw dropped, a strangled squawk escaping her.

“Yeah, I told you I was,” Dingo said. “You said it was cool.”

“You didn’t tell me you were taking my condoms,” Luka growled. He was ninety percent sure he hadn’t, at least. He remembered Dingo asking to grab something from his bag, but he didn’t remember hearing Dingo say _what_ he’d needed. He had been a little distracted at the time, but he was still fairly certain Dingo had not said he’d needed his fucking _condoms._

“What’s the big deal, anyway? You never use ‘em. You…” Dingo started, but Marinette finally seemed to have found her voice.

_“He fucking_ _what!?”_ she shrieked, loud enough that Dingo had definitely heard her.

“…ooooooooh,” he said, and Luka could practically see him nodding with the realization that _he had royally fucked up, big time_. “Shit. Well, you have that other box in your drawer. The Captain always gives you two. And the ones you kept from last year that haven’t expired yet. You’re good, mate.”

“We’re not at the boat, Ding,” Luka groaned, reaching up to rub at his face. He was going to explode, but whether it was going to be because of sexual frustration or murderous rage he wasn’t sure yet. “Tom and Ma S are at that bridal convention this weekend. We’re at the bakery.”

“Well, shit. Can’t you just…I dunno…check her parent’s room?”

… _what_.

“Rifle through their drawers, see if they have any extra?” Dingo continued. “I’m sure they wouldn’t mind, if the only other option is bare-backing it.”

He was going to fucking kill him. Even if he _wanted_ to use her parents’ condoms – which, _ew_ – Luka was pretty sure any condom that would fit Tom…well, wouldn’t fit him.

Not that he wanted to think about Tom’s junk, but if the rest of him was anything to go by Luka was pretty sure Tom was _huge_.

“…Ding, don’t let me see you for a while,” Luka sighed heavily. “I’m going to fucking murder you if I do.”

“…yeah, that’s fair,” Dingo said. There was another splash, and Luka winced. “If it’s any consolation, when we whipped ‘em out, the other team nearly shit a brick. They’re _excellent_ psychological warfare.”

“Considering my balls are going to match my hair, it really isn’t any consolation,” Luka deadpanned. He disconnected the call before Dingo could reply, chucking the mobile at the pile of crap from his bag before he dropped back onto the couch with a groan. When that wasn’t satisfying enough, he twisted and slid to fall onto his back and glare at the ceiling. His dick slapped into his stomach with the force of his fall, and he whimpered at the painful reminder of its neglected state. “I know, lil’ buddy. We’re going to kill him.”

Marinette snorted, choking a little on a strangled laugh. He whimpered and reached out a hand for her, closing his eyes when she threaded her fingers through his own.

“I am so sorry,” he said. He lifted his head to look at her. She was biting down on a smile, and he groaned again before dropping his head back onto the cushion and tossing his arm over his eyes. “Ok. Oh my God. This is so unfair.”

“Luka, calm down,” she said, squeezing his hand.

“I can’t calm down, Marinette,” he snapped. He was going to die from sexual frustration. His dick was going to explode, and not in the fun way, and it was going to kill him. “I’m ready to bust a nut here, and –”

“It’s not that big a deal,” she said. She was trying to sound reassuring, to placate him, but his dick fucking _hurt_ and Dingo had just screwed them over – and not in the fun way!

“It is too a fucking big deal!” he whined. Her other hand was suddenly just above his knee, and his entire body shuddered as she squeezed. That’s it. He was definitely going to die. “ _Marinette._ ”

“ _Luka_ ,” she shot back. “We have options here.”

“…we have what?” he asked, sliding his arm from where it had been covering his eyes to rest above his head. Had he heard her right?

...she was technically right, he supposed. There was nothing stopping him from throwing his pants back on and running out to buy more. That was an option. But given the state of his dick, it wasn’t an immediate option, and it didn’t really seem fair to make Marinette do it instead. He supposed they could try and convince Kaalki to open a portal to his room on the Liberty and they could grab one of the boxes there, but he really didn’t want to deal with the huffy kwami when he was already plenty huffy himself. They could also…

“Well, the way I see it, we have two options,” she continued, interrupting his rapidly spiraling thoughts. He popped his head back up, an eyebrow rising in question.

“Which are?” he asked, curious as to what solution she had come up with. She smirked at him.

“I can suck you off like I tried to earlier and we can call it a day,” she said, and he groaned to show his displeasure at that idea. It would solve the immediate problem, sure, but it wouldn’t change the fact that that’s not how either of them had wanted to come this time. “We have all weekend, star. We can get some more condoms later and try again. Or…”

She squeezed his hand again before letting go. He had liked the way she’d said _Or_. That _Or_ held promise. He nodded, awkwardly with the angle his head was at, for her to continue. His eyes widened as she began to crawl up his body, dropping lazy kisses along his stomach and chest as she went. When she reached his mouth, her hand found his dick between them and began to slowly stroke. He moaned into her mouth as she leaned back, nipping his lip as she pulled away.

“O-or?” he gasped, sounding strangled.

“Or you can follow me upstairs and we can use the condoms I bought last week,” she said, smirking. She gave him an extra squeeze before releasing him, settling against him as she laid that arm on his chest. “Your choice.”

“…you _were_ planning this,” he gaped, a baffled smile curling his lips. She blushed hard enough that her ears pinked, and wasn’t that something. He didn’t know how she had the embarrassment in her, considering she was wearing nothing but her underwear, he was wearing nothing at all, and she had just been fondling his dick. Considering what they were planning on doing and had already done that afternoon. She would never cease to amaze him that way, he supposed.

“I wouldn’t say I was _planning_ ,” she muttered, looking away. “But I knew we had discussed…and I knew we’d be alone this weekend, so it seemed like the perfect opportunity to try penetrative sex, so I just wanted to…be prepared…”

She trailed off, but he was fairly certain it had less to do with embarrassment and more to do with how he’d started laughing when she’d said “penetrative sex” like some goddamned textbook. He grabbed her face and tugged her towards him, kissing her deeply to soothe the unintended slight.

“Darning, you are amazing,” he breathed, pressing their foreheads together when he pulled back, “and I will gladly take you upstairs to finish what we started. I am going to fuck you so hard.”

“Is that a promise?” she teased, pressing into him and drawing another embarrassingly strangled sound from his lips.

“God, yes,” he sighed, and she squealed as he shot up, tossing her over his shoulder like she was one of the spools of rope he’d grown up carrying around deck. He slapped a hand against her ass, and she laughed as she scrabbled to get a good grip on him. He wouldn’t drop her, though. They both knew he never would. “All right, darning. Upstairs. I have got to fuck you,” he said, grinning when she started laughing again. “So hard.”

…in the end, he fucked her for maybe fifteen seconds (and that was being generous). He’d barely slid inside her, had barely given her time to adjust, when her walls had spasmed around him and his hips had jutted forward, and he was cursing as he came.

“…did you just…?” she gasped, staring up at him with a dazed, mystified expression on her face. When he continued to stare at her, his mouth moving soundlessly as his body continued to tremble, she pressed her knee into his side. When that also failed to draw a response from him, she scratched her nails down his back, pinching just above his ass and making him jerk his hips into her again. His brain seemed to catch up with him, ending what he was fairly certain had been an out of body experience.

“…kill me now,” he moaned, ducking his head against her shoulder. She started _laughing_ , and that really wasn’t helping his confidence any. “Marinette. Stop. Please, God, just…stop.”

“It was sweet, Luka,” she giggled.

“I’m barely inside you!” he cried. She was giggling harder, and he groaned again. “Darning…”

“I’m just that good,” she teased. Her hand had worked its way into his hair again, and the way she was brushing it was almost enough to lull him to sleep. She was so soft beneath him, so warm, and he was _exhausted_ all of a sudden… “Next time will be better. You still…Luka? Are you…are you falling asleep?”

“…you’re never going to let me live this down, are you?” he mumbled into her shoulder.

“I’m a sex god,” she said, laughing again. “I have superpowers. My vagina has brought you to your knees.”

“Not the first time,” he quipped, nipping at her when she continued to laugh. He grumbled when she began squirming beneath him. He was still half-hard inside her, though he was softening fast. He should probably move. He highly doubted he’d be able to get it up again any time soon. “It will never be that quick again.”

And it wasn’t.

…at least not that weekend.

(A few years later, after returning from his first tour and three months on the road away from her, he would break that promise.)

(…he’d make it five seconds that time.)

**Author's Note:**

> “Loingear” is apparently a Scottish term for sailor, and once I learned that you’re damn right Anarka was using it against her b’y. Especially when cheap shots at his loins were involved. xD


End file.
